"The Riding Instructor
  and The Stable Hand"

      by Helen Back

His sack would tingle as he watched her demonstrate on horseback for her students. He would save cleaning the stalls near the arena for when her class was in session. Now and then she would mount a students horse and show everyone what she was trying to tell them. He would drop everything whenever she did this and find a discrete place to watch. One time, he actually took matters in hand.

It was during a demonstration of something she called the rising trot. As she slipped her toe into the stirrup leaving one foot on the ground, her legs stretched apart. Each round cheek of her ass was separate and distinct and his mind reeled when he thought of the space between. She hopped onto the stirruped foot, and from his angle he could see her chest jiggle with each hop, 1,2,3 and her lower leg swung up and over the saddle. He got a brief glimpse of her crotch region and squeezed his balls with his hand in the pocket of his overalls: he longed to be that saddle as he watched her split legs nestle into the leather seat.

He ducked into an empty stall where he could lean against a post and watch her through a knot hole in a board. He unzipped and slowly stroked himself through his longjohns wondering how the hard leather saddle felt to her. Did she receive any stimulation while straddling it? Did it rub her clit or squish her labia? Thinking that it did made him a little harder.

She rocked back a bit as she squeezed her horse's sides with her calves. While riding off, she squeezed left then right then left in rhythm with the horse's walking gait. She explained to the students that the horse relys on her to set the pace. She demonstrated quicker leg squeezes, left, then right, than left. This made her hips rock ever so slightly and he could only think of her resting atop his lap doing his; riding him and squeezing left, then right, then left as his cock grew inside of her.

He pulled himself free of his work clothes and noted he was harder than he'd been in a long time. His large, pink, bell-shaped cock head was tight and shiny. He began to slowly stroke down, then up stopping just below the head. She continued riding around the arena, lecturing to her students who waited in the center of the arean. She discussed the premise of the rising or posting trot. That it was invented for riding long distances without getting a sore back side. The modesty with which she phrased the term "back-side" made him want her all the more: the girl-next-door, the virgin, the innocent and pure. This image turned him on like the pictures in his dirty magazines of young women dressed in catholic school girl uniforms: nice, but naughty.

"The rising trot is a gait with a 1,2 rhythm ridden while the horse trots fast. You must rise on the proper diagonal to your horse's front hoof placement or you risk a bumpy ride, or worse, your horse losing footing and taking a tumble with you." With this she clucked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, squeezed both legs into her mount's sides, sat with a single, deeper sort of scoop movement which pulsed his groin to see and said "trot on." The horse picked up a trot and she began to rise up then down, up down, up down, up down, up down as his hand began to rub up then down, up down, up down in rhythm with her rising and sitting: ah to be that saddle.

"You must rise as the inside shoulder is back. This takes your weight off of the animal's center of balance and allows free movement around turns and corners." Her breasts heaved up down, up down, up down with an extra jiggle each time she sat and at each apex of rising: ah to be that saddle, up down up down up down up down, 1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2. His head began to spin as she spoke: "Your rhythm tells your horse how fast you want to go, you can go slower." As she rose and sat slower he was unaware that his hand rubbed slower in time with her. "Or faster," up down, up down, up down, up down, he rubbed faster and began to breath fast, "slower," her breasts looked like slow motion, he thought he could see her nipples harden under her sports bra and t-shirt.

Is it possible that she is getting some sort of pleasure from this rising and sitting? He watched a little closer. "Faster," up down, up down, up down, he saw her cheeks flush and two distinct points at the center of each breast. They were so hard that her shirt began to grow a line between them. He could barely stand knowing that she had big nipples, he loved big nipples. "And slower," he could see her breathing quicker, this could be simply because she was exerting some energy. However, seeing her rising and sitting, panting with parted lips, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and hard nippled she looked like she was fucking. Up down, up down, up down, up down. "I want you all to practice this without stirrups. Begin with the sitting trot until your legs are completely stretched down and you feel glued to your saddle. Then begin your rising trot without stirrups." She dropped her feet from her stirrups as she spoke and began to sit as the animal continued the bumpy gait. Sit, sit, sit. Her hips wiggled in time with the quick pace. She was grinding the saddle in such a way that he changed his up down gliding stroke to short tugs just below his swollen, purple head. His balls began to pull up inside and tighten. He watched her every move. Tits bouncing. Sit, sit, sit. 1,1,1,1,1. Tug, tug, tug. His index finger began to rub just under his head at the beginning of the sensitive spot he loved to have licked: ah to be that saddle.

He could see her flushed face and her parted lips as her eyes began to roll slightly back, her hips grinding the saddle, her legs straight and her toes pointing up. She tensed for a moment and her jaw clenched. Sid he see her shudder ever so slightly has her horse dropped abruptly into a walk? At this very moment his own eruption sent shivers of release through him has he squeezed his balls and sent a stream into the hay below.

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After he finished the stalls that day, he was in the tack room cleaning some of the bridles. He leaned against a saddle resting on a saddle stand. His thoughts drifted back to the lesson early that day. His crotch tingled as he smiled thinking of her hardened nipples. He always wondered why women liked riding, he suspected but never knew. He finished cleaning a bridle and reached across the saddle for another. Glancing down, he realized this was her saddle. The one she road in competitions and on trails. The one which housed her rising and sitting crease that he strained at each chance to get sight of. Her crack was virtually here with him now. Well the resting spot at least. Beggars can't be choosers he thought as he let his hips press forward into the hard leather.

He began to stiffen as he caressed the soft, black, padded seat. He fingered the pommel as if it were her slit; sliding back and forth and over the edge like it was her clit. He was fully erect now and needed some room. He unzipped and pulled himself out. Touching the tip of his head to the leather seat, a drop of juice dripped out of him. He quickly wiped it off for fear of leaving a stain. He pulled more at himself and freed his still tight balls over the edge of his cloths as he raised a leg to straddle the rack. Slowly he rested himself into the saddle and closed his eyes. His cock stiffened to an unrecognizable hardness as his balls rested down onto the leather: ah to be this saddle as she rises and sits in that rhythm. That fucking rhythm on my cock, up and down, up down, up down he stroked as his balls slapped against the leather.

He could feel his pleasure rising when he heard the door open. He let out a gasp when he looked up. It was her. And he here in such a state. Althoug she stared unmoved for an uncomfortable amount of time, his erection did not abate. The surprise sent a rush through him and he was now coursing with passion. His nipples became hard and his penis stood straight up even though he had let go of it. He was hot with embarrassment. He wondered if he would faint with so much blood concentrated in two places of his body.

Just then she stepped in and closed the door behind him. What? He was confused, frightened and extremely turned on as he wondered what she was about to do. He was not used to this vulnerability. He felt like the defenseless, bridled horse waiting for instruction from the master. He was sweating profusely and could feel his balls begin to stick to the saddle, the leather felt good. Hell, his shirt felt good. Ss the sensations spilled out of his body he could pin point each sense being used: he could smell her scent as she approached in, what appeared to him as, slow motion; his vision became acute as he searched for that nipple line across her shirt; he could almost taste her lips which were parted as her breath quickened; his sense of touch was heightened since his orgasm was interrupted right at the magic moment; he could hear his heart pounding like a bass drum while still being aware of her boot steps across the wooden floor, 1,2,1,2,1,2 like the rising trot.

He stopped breathing when she lifted and pulled off her shirt and bra in one swift movement, revealing two perfect, round white mounds with half inch pink nipples. He began to salivate as she approached, penis jutting straight up with no visible support. She stepped over him straddled his lap, her breasts pendulous and hanging within inches of his mouth. She looked at him like she was angry with him when she told him to take off his clothes. He gulped and could not believe what was happening as he stood up to remove his overalls, then his button up shirt and long johns. It felt like forever as his nervous fingers fumbled with each button, snap, zipper, hook, lock. His wood never dissipated though. She did not move from her position as he grazed and bumped her now and then. This turned him on so very much. Allowing himself minimal access to her made him savor the moment when he could actually taste her, when she would be riding him: ah to be the saddle.

He stood there stark naked with a huge erection and she stared at his stiffness for what to him was a very long time. This turned him on to have this topless woman who, up til now, was the object of his fantasy, staring at him. His penis jutted up at this thought and she smiled at him, "do you want to go for a ride?" He could only nod, yes, yes, yes. "Sit." the leather felt good, cool against his hot skin. His balls pressed into the seat as his erection pointed up towards her crease.

He looked at her tight riding pants and could see a slight wet spot. Was this sweat or is she wet from watching him? He reached up and pressed a thumb into the wet spot making her gasp and let out a faint squeal. She sucked air in through her teeth as he rubbed up from there, pulling her uncontrolled hips with his hand movement. He rubbed back and her hips followed, forward, back, forward, back-he rubbed her with the length of his hand as her body swayed with him. He felt so powerful in this moment, he felt like the saddle, pushing and pulling her hips with him. She pushed his hand away and told him to lean back.

His cock jutted up from the saddle and he rested on his behind with his feet on the floor in front of him. This made his lap a perfect setting place for her luscious crease. She pealed herself out of her riding boots and jodhpurs. He could see her sticky underwear pull reluctantly away from her labia and could not blame them when he saw her beautiful lips pulled down and hanging there from between her legs. She shaved herself and the pink flower of her center was a sight for him to behold. He told her to step forward, she obliged and her crease was directly at his mouth. He reached up and gently pulled apart her lips to reveal her inner portions. He buried his tongue deep into the hole, covering the labia, and clit with his lips. He slowly and delicately ran his tongue up the center and over her clit while sucking. She squirmed and gripped his face with her inner thigh. He pulled away with a great sucking sound, sucking her juicy wetness.

She was so ready he couldn't believe it. He was used to a lot of foreplay before he could comfortably slip his size into most women. He had yet to test the inside which he did not hesitate to do next. As he held her vagina open with two fingers on one hand, he slipped the middle finger of his other hand into her. She gasped and squeezed his finger as it entered. He pulled out and her hips followed him; she really wanted him. He sucked the juice off of his finger and heard her moan as she watched. He slipped back into her gliding over the hood of her clit. Her clit seemed to be bigger and harder than before so he investigated. Sure enough, as he stroked it, it swelled. She moaned and rocked but he didn't want to let her cum yet so he stopped and slid into her, this time with his index and middle fingers. He juicy cunt sucked them in and he squeezed. He pumped her slowly a couple of times with these fingers and could hardly bare it.

He pulled out of her, leaned back and said "Sit." She squatted over his erection, pulling herself open and slid slowly onto him. He said "Walk." She began to simulate what she did on horseback, squeezing with one then the other thigh. This made her rock forward and back on each side as she squeezed him inside and out. "Trot on" he said. As he began to buck up and down in a 1,2 rhythm she bobbed up and down on him for a few paces as he opened the palms of his hands and let them graze her nipple tops. This made her shiver and he slowly cupped her bobbing breasts. "Rising trot" he said as the passion rose in him. She began to pump up then down, up then down, up down, up down, up down and breath faster. He followed her rhythm holding onto her breasts, licking the nipples gently as they passed his mouth with each up and down movement. She humped him faster when he said faster. Finally the were pounding and humping in rhythm with each other, his arms wrapped around her sucking and licking her breasts and nipples, rocking his hard cock into her 1,1,1,1,1,1, she began to pant into his ear and whispered I'm cumming. She held him close and squeezed him until he though he would pop. He let out a cry and filled her with his warm expenditure. She slowly rocked to a stop on top of her black leather saddle: ah to be this saddle.

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